


A Rose With Thorns

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Historical RPF, Les adieux à la reine | Farewell My Queen (2012)
Genre: F/F, Misses Clause Challenge, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marie Antoinette is enchanted by the lovely Gabrielle de Polastron from the moment she lays eyes on her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rose With Thorns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thedevilchicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/gifts).



> I am not at all a native French speaker or even fluent so please excuse any inaccuracies, but I really wanted to throw some French in there to liven things up. (Translations of French phrases are at the bottom.) And the difference between "vous" and "tu" is nearly impossible to replicate in English :)
> 
> Happy Holidays!

_She is absolutely ravishing,_ was the first thought that struck Marie Antoinette when she was first presented with Gabrielle de Polastron for the first time. Yes _with._ Not _to_ but _with,_ because Marie could never have imagined a more perfect present. The young woman was some six years older than Marie but she was as fresh as if she was still but a maiden. 

Marie soon found that not only was she enchanted by Gabrielle, but she was quite literally _captivated_ by her. Marie felt like if she spent a single day away from the other woman, she could not sleep properly at night. It was the most irksome of infatuations, but she could not do anything about it. Some said that it would not do to arrange all of Gabrielle’s affairs so that she could afford to stay at Versailles but Marie saw no other choice for herself. She certainly was not going to allow something as base as _money_ to stand in the way of her happiness. After all, did she not have all the wealth of France at her feet? What were a few settled debts? 

Marie could not always be sure if Gabrielle was more flower of panther. She was bewitching in polite company, immaculate in manner and fresh as a rose. But Marie always felt, when she and Gabrielle got lost together in the gardens, that there was something dangerous about the older woman, that she wielded some unknown, awesome power which Marie could not access. 

When Marie made Gabrielle’s husband a Duke, thus transforming Gabrielle into the Duchess de Polignac, she saw a confidence reborn in Gabrielle that made the woman even more of a panther and somewhat less of a rose. But Marie thought she rather liked the change. There were many roses to be had in Versailles but not quite so many with long and elegant thorns. 

“You must teach me your way, _ma chère_ ,” Marie whispered conspiratorially to Gabrielle one afternoon on their usual walk around the gardens, allowing herself to drink in the other woman’s figure in a sun-bright yellow gown. 

“What do you mean?” Gabrielle asked, quite innocently, wrapping her full, kissable lips over a strawberry. 

“Oh don’t tease me,” Marie threw her head back for just a moment to catch the warmth of the sun and the sweet smelling air. She then leaned in and whispered into Gabrielle’s ear, her nose hidden among the brunette’s curls which fell in graceful ringlets out of her midday up-do. “You must know that you are scandalously sensual. You have some power, _ma chère,_ and I long to know its nature.” 

Gabrielle laughed softly, a laugh that sent shivers over Marie’s body. “Oh I have no power that other women do not posses… Although, on second thought, I do think I wield mine more…creatively.” 

Marie felt as if she were losing herself in those unnatural violet eyes. She could not be _real._ She must be a goddess or a demon. Something _other,_ for Gabrielle did to Marie with a single look what no man – husband or lover – could do with even the most intimate touch. “I do not understand. Would you consider your womanhood a power?”

“In a way.” Gabrielle savored another strawberry and Marie felt herself melting in the sun and in the glow of the moment, too bright to be anything but a dream, and yet real all the same. “But, as I said, I have found more varied uses for it then most women do.”

“Show me then.” Marie put herself in her companion’s way, making the other woman falter for just a moment from the suddenness of it all. “I command you show me. I _implore_ you to. Which ever suits you rather.”

Gabrielle’s smile was more of a smirk. She traced a small, delicate hand over the laces of her corset and looked thoughtfully at her royal friend with an unreadable expression. Yet, Marie thought that if the look must have a name, it was most like curiosity. “Seeing as how your husband is off hunting, I suppose he will not be taking his pleasure tonight,” Gabrielle purred silkily. 

“No, he will not be back for a couple of nights,” Marie agreed, wondering what this could possibly lead to. 

“Might I visit your bedchamber tonight then? I shall teach you a certain woman’s way I have become quite fond of.”

Marie agreed of course. How could she not, when her thorny rose, her sly panther, was so willing to oblige. She waited until dark fell, becoming more and more agitated as the minutes and hours ticked on. She drank her wine and retired early, dismissing the maids and ladies in waiting, unclipping her own blonde locks so she could watch them fall over her shoulders in the long mirror to the quiet crackling of the candles. 

She was in her dressing gown, seated on the plush covers of the bed when Gabrielle swooped in, boldly pushing the large doors open and quietly clicking them shut behind herself. Her dress was the color of thick foliage its golden trimming glistened in the candlelight. 

“ _Vous êtes trop belle, ma rose_.” Marie felt her throat closing in anticipation. She did not know what to think, what to do, what to _feel._ She could only look at Gabrielle with a feeling of awe and delusional happiness.. 

“If you are to be my _intimate_ friend,” Gabrielle began, her nimble fingers unlacing her corset with spirited ease. “We ought to be less formal.” Marie knew she should stop Gabrielle but she could not utter a single world. Gabrielle had always taken all of her willpower away. Marie could be dismissive and abrupt with anyone she liked, she could be distant and regal, if she so chose. With anyone but Gabrielle. She felt her cheeks flood with color when Gabrielle’s gown slipped off her, bearing first her breasts, then stopping for a moment on her hips before sliding to the floor. She stood before Marie in only her underskirts, exposed but not vulnerable. Not with the depth of night in her eyes. 

“ _Tu rougis. C'est charmant_.”

“That is quite intimate,” was the only thing Marie could say, savoring the way that informal “ _tu_ ” sounded rolling off of Gabrielle’s lips. 

“If you are not satisfied, I can always leave.” Gabrielle came closer and Marie felt a sudden urge to dispose of her nightgown. Gabrielle managed that for her. 

“You shall leave, if I command it. But oh, you are, _tu es…_ ” Marie knew she was lost – for words and to the world. Gabrielle’s skin shone and she smelled like herbs. Her skin was smooth and white as milk. Her eyes shone like the eyes of some foreign creature but she was lovely and irresistible. No matter how Marie fought for control she lost it all as Gabrielle did unimaginable things to her body and this was the most real thing in all of Versailles which suddenly seemed fake and artificial, a masquerade where only this was true. 

“Gabrielle… _Je serai à toi pour toujours_ ,” Marie whispered at the end of it all. She knew then what it was about Gabrielle that was so dangerous even as she watched the brunette lace her gown up once more and slip out the door into the dark hallway. It was the fact that Gabrielle conquered without shame and without regret; it was her sexual allure and, apparently, the way Marie’s own body answered that call. There was something too intimate in their friendship, something uncanny about Gabrielle’s choice to leave immediately and something unsafe about how much Marie wanted her back already. Painfully. More so then before. 

But the Queen of France had never held back from indulging her passions, and this time was not going to be any different.

**Author's Note:**

> "vous" vs "tu" - in French there are two forms of the second person "you". "Vous" is used either to speak to a group or to someone you are not well acquainted with, such as adult strangers, teachers, your boss, etc. "Tu" is informal and used among family members, close friends, lovers, etc. 
> 
> ma chère - my dear  
> Vous êtes trop belle, ma rose - You are too beautiful, my rose  
> Tu rougis. C'est charmant - You blush. It's charming.  
> Tu es... - You are...  
> Je serai à toi pour toujours - I am yours forever


End file.
